by Nikki Chase
“Eh. You didn’t know me back then. Maybe I used to be the type. Maybe I’m just reformed now.”
“Jessie likes a bo-oy,” Tony taunts in a sing-songy voice.
“I was a stripper,” I say in a low voice. “Maybe I used to have emotionless sex all the time. You don’t know.”
Tony is the only person in the entire school who knows about my past. He knows I used to strip for a living and he knows why I moved here.
We’re the only teachers in Ashbourne High School who are in our twenties, so we quickly bonded over our shared love of Taylor Swift. He’s now my “contact person in case of emergency” on all my legal forms.
One day, he opened up to me about growing up gay in a small town and told me how he felt like he had to hide who he really is for the longest time.
I said I knew how he must’ve felt. Then I told him how I’m hiding the fact that I used to be a stripper from everyone in town. That opened the floodgates and soon he knew all my deepest, darkest secrets.
“So why not do it again now?” Tony challenges. “Why not have emotionless sex again with Jacob?”
“Well, maybe I will.” I meet Tony’s stare while I pour the boiled water from the kettle into the cup and play with the teabag.
“Go ahead and do it, then. We both know you need to get laid. The way your Tinder date ended, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s your best bet right now.”
“Like I said, maybe I will, if I feel like it.”
“Okay. Maybe then you’ll admit I’m right.”
“You’re right regarding…?” I take a tiny sip of my piping hot tea, peering at Tony over the mug.
“Regarding how much you like Mr. Dreamy Neighbor,” he says. “It’s obvious he likes you, too.”
“It is?” I ignore the new name Tony has bestowed upon Jacob.
“Why else would he move to a small town where he doesn’t know anybody?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just a drifter. He never said he was going to stay here. Or maybe he’s got work to do.”
“Yeah? What kind of work?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he does for a living.”
“Yeah. I’d bet my favorite Valentino shirt that Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s here to do something, or someone, but it’s not work.” Tony raises one eyebrow and shoots me a sly smile.
“Hey, let’s not forget that he may have been sent by Stan to kidnap me, okay? I’ve never had a break-in before he moved in.”
“Is that why you didn’t stay at his place after he offered?”
“Kind of. It was also because the cops didn’t seem too worried about it, like that kind of thing happens all the time and nobody ever gets hurt, because the robber usually just wants to steal stuff and not hurt people. I figured I was safer on my own than with someone who could be Stan’s guy, who could’ve set up the break-in himself to trick me into staying with him.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Not really,” I admit. Jacob is a little rough around the edges, but I don’t get the vibes that he’d ever do anything to harm me. Having worked at a strip club for years, I know the telltale signs of a violent man, and Jacob is not one.
He’s a big guy, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I want him to. My dirty mind flies to the time we spent in his bed, his teeth biting on my neck, his fingers pulling my hair. Exquisite pain. Mind-blowing pain. Rock-my-world pain.
It’s rare that I come across a man who instinctively knows what I need and gives it to me. Most men are either too passive or too selfish in bed. Not Jacob. He took me fast and hard, used me for his pleasure, but not without making sure I’m satisfied, too.
“Earth to Jessie,” Tony says, putting an abrupt end to my daydream. “Sorry for the interruption, but the look on your face is…curious, to say the least.”
As I flick my gaze toward him, he smirks smugly and says, “Thinking about all the meaningless sex you’re going to have with Mr. Dreamy Neighbor?” He raises the pitch of his voice and says, “Oh, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor, I need to get laid so bad. Please do me with your dreamy, engorged manhood.”
“Whatever, Tony. I need to get to class.” I take my mug of tea with me as I rush out toward the hallway before Tony can come up with something snarky to say, before he notices my face turning red. My cheeks already feel warm. Damn my pale complexion.
I sit at my desk in my classroom. I actually still have a few minutes to waste before the bell rings, but Tony doesn’t need to know that.
I grab my phone and click the app with the envelope icon. I should really clear my mailbox someday. I’m subscribed to too many newsletters that I don’t even recognize anymore.
I delete most of my new emails until there are only three left. The electricity bill, the water bill, and an email from someone called Caine Foster with a subject that says “Urgent: We need to talk about Nancy Jones.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Could this be Stan catching up to me?
I haven’t shared this email address with anybody from my previous life. In fact, I deleted all my old online accounts and created new ones when I left the city.
There’s only one way to find out. I tap on the email to open it. The message inside is short.
Miss Lewis,
Please don’t be alarmed. You don’t have any reason to trust me, but I’m here to help you. We can’t discuss much over emails for obvious reasons. Please meet me in person. I’ll be in town two weeks from now. Pick a time and a public place where you’ll feel safe. Hope to hear back from you.
Regards,
Caine Foster
Chapter 14
Jacob
“What are you doing?” Jessica climbs up the porch and stands over my shoulders as I crouch by her front door.
“What does it look like?” I keep my eyes on my work, even though I want to turn around and take a good look at her.
This morning when she left for work, I saw her wearing a tight little green skirt. I would’ve loved having a teacher like her when I was in school.
I bet that ass looks cute wiggling in front of the class as she erases the writing on the whiteboard, and that loose blouse looks like the kind that would let me take a peek at her cleavage when she bends down to pick up a dropped pen.
“It looks like you’re tampering with my lock without my permission,” she says without missing a beat.
Jesus, did she wake up on the wrong side of the bed? This is what I get for trying to help her. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
“No, I’m changing your locks,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. I’m not in the mood for an argument today, especially after getting lost on the way to the hardware store to buy the new door locks. I’m pretty tired and easily irritated right now, and I know fighting with Jessica would just turn my day from bad to worse.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised.
My hands stay frozen in the air, one holding a screwdriver and the other one holding the old door lock I’ve just removed. I look back over my shoulder to see color spread across her cheeks.
When she notices me looking at her, she turns around and walks toward the porch railing, presumably in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
Too late, baby. I already saw you turn red as a beet.
“How much is it?” She turns around as she leans her luscious ass on the railing.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It was cheap.”
“But I have to give you something in return for doing that for me.”
“How about a lap dance?” I turn around and raise an eyebrow at her, a lopsided smile forming on my lips.
She glares at me without saying a word.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” I shrug. She stays quiet as I put the new latch into place. Jesus, fuck. I really don’t need this silent treatment today. “Sorry. It was just a joke.”
But I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to do it, I think to myself.
“Yeah, well, it was a bad joke,” she says.
Even without looking, I know she’s still glaring at me. I can practically feel the heat of her anger searing into my back.
Okay, so she doesn’t like to talk about her previous job. It’s not going to be easy trying to find out what she’s up to with her being all secretive like this.
I get up and hold the door between my knees as I put one half of the doorknob through the hole on the outside of the door and the other half through the one on the inside. They slide together into place. I step inside Jessica’s hallway to screw everything into place.
“Wait a minute,” she says. “How did you open the door?”
“With a credit card. Probably the same way the guy who broke in did.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Yeah. You had an older lock. This type is more secure, so he won’t be able to get in so easily next time. The police say this type of thing happens sometimes in this area, so he probably won’t try your house again next time. But if he does, he’ll see it’s harder to pick your lock now and maybe he’ll try another house.”
“Now I feel bad for the neighbors.”
“Eh, there are always going to be break-ins. All you can do is make sure it’s not your house that’s being targeted.”
“Can you also do Bertha’s house?”
“Bertha?”
“Yes. She’s the older lady who lives a few houses down the street. She lives on her own,” she says.
“Sure, I can do that.” I don’t have a spare set of door lock, but I can’t say no to that. Now I’d feel responsible if the old lady really got her place broken into. I guess I’ll have to make another trip to the hardware store. At least I already know the way by now so I won’t get lost again.
“Thanks, Jacob.” Jessica gives me a sweet smile that makes me want to march across the porch and kiss her.
Aw, fuck. Why do I have to be such a sucker for her pretty face?
“No problem,” I say as I lock and unlock the door a few times to make sure it works. I cross the porch toward her and hold out my hand, the keys dangling from my fingers. “Okay, I’m done. I’ve already changed the lock on the back door as well. Here are your new keys. You may want to give your landlord a set. Oh, and your boyfriend, too.”
I keep my expression neutral to make it seem like a casual question. In reality, I’ve been planning to drop this into a conversation since she mentioned the name of the guy who has a key to her place last night.
While watching her through the window this morning, I was going through this conversation in my head. I thought my idea to change her locks was genius. And of course, I timed it perfectly to coincide with her coming home.
“My boyfriend?” Jessica frowns as she takes the keys from me. Her hand grazes mine for a second and I resist the urge to grab it and pull her close so I can smell her hair again like I did last night.
“Yeah. Uh, Tony, right?” I frown and cock my head so it looks like I’m trying to recall the name that, in reality, has been branded on my brain by jealousy.
“Tony’s not my boyfriend,” she says as she laughs it off. Good answer, but I have a few follow-up questions.
“Oh, is that why he didn’t drive you home last night?”
“Last night?”
“Yeah. You were all dressed up and looking nice, so I thought maybe you had a date,” I say. I know she doesn’t usually wear heels, for example, but I’m not going to mention that.
“Oh. Um, yeah. But it wasn’t with Tony,” she says.
“Tony has your keys, but you went out with another guy who isn’t your boyfriend?” I whistle. “Wow, you’re really playing the field, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?” Jessica’s voice climbs in both pitch and volume. “Neither one of them is my boyfriend, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I thought neighbors were supposed to share personal information with one another,” I say. I know I’m just making her angrier, but fuck not getting into a fight. She needs to know what she’s doing is not okay. “Listen. I’m telling you this for your own good. Maybe it was fine to play with the guys who went to your strip club. Maybe they were there just for fun and games, too. But guys in small towns, they don’t work that way. They get hurt and they may lash out at you, maybe break into your house. I suggest you move back to the city if you want to continue doing this.”
“Don’t act like you know me. You don’t know my life. Who are you to judge me?” Jessica’s shouting at the top of her lungs now. She pauses, crosses her arms, and squints at me. She points her index finger at me and jabs me in the chest. “You know what, nobody I know has ever had a break-in around here before you moved in. So maybe it was you who’s lashing out at me, huh?
“Well, excuse me for ever thinking you’re attractive enough to have a one night stand with. I don’t remember ever making any promises to you about seeing each other again. Is that why you moved here? To get some kind of revenge over a small slight I caused you, freaking three years ago? Have you been holding onto a grudge this whole time?”
“Hey. Whoa.” I raise my hands in front of me. “I was just trying to help you, okay? I just changed your locks and gave you some safety tips. That’s all. I never said anything about me holding onto a grudge against you. Don’t get your panties all twisted in a bunch. I happen to have some business in town and I’m not even planning to stay for long.”
“Good,” she says as she continues to glower at me.
“Good,” I reply as I turn around and grab the toolbox I placed by the door. I walk back home next door.
So much for not getting into a fucking fight today, I think to myself as the veins in my temples throb.
It wasn’t all bad, though. Now I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Besides, she just said I’m attractive. She also mentioned something about her past for the first time since I got here and she even said something about the night we spent together.
A smirk spreads across my face. Maybe it’s not such a bad day after all.
Chapter 15
Jessica
This is the worst day ever.
I close the front door behind me and fling myself onto the couch. As the weight of my body forces the air in the cushions out with a soft hiss, I let out a big exhale.
First, there was that mysterious email from some guy called Caine Foster—in which he uses my old name.
I knew I had to change my name after putting Stan in jail because, despite being careful about not using my real name at the Pussy Club, it was mentioned numerous times at court.
All I changed was my last name, from Lewis to Lake. I figured my first name is common enough. It would be impossible for Stan to check every single Jessica in the country.
Yet here we are, barely one year later, and someone from my old life has already found me.
I don’t know anybody called Caine Foster, but the name sounded familiar, so I went on Google to find out why.
According to my research, Caine Foster is the first son of Robert Foster, the infamous so-called businessman who, according to rumors, runs a bunch of illegal brothels and gambling dens in San Francisco.
I couldn’t believe a guy like that would be looking for me—a nobody. But when I checked the domain of his email address, I reached the website of a subsidiary company that belongs to the Foster family’s corporation. I even saw Caine Foster’s name and picture on their list of company founders.
Why would someone like Caine Foster be looking for me? It’s obviously related to Nancy’s death, so it probably also has something to do with Stan.
Could Caine Foster be the guy who’s finally going to punish me for my little act of rebellion? Is he coming after me for taking to the witness stand and putting Stan in jail?
It doesn’t sound likely. Even if the Foster family has dealings with some strip clubs, it’s unlikely that Stan knows someone that high up in the hierarchy. Caine Foster shouldn’t even know some small fry like Stan existed. So…why?
I guess there
’s no way to find out, unless I email him back and meet him in person like he requested, but what if it’s a trap?
And that's not even my only problem. There was also that weird message from my Tinder date.
Just as I was about to drive home from school, while I was sitting behind the wheel, I heard the beep of a text message. It was a text from Steve.
Steve: Sorry you had to leave early last night. Let’s reschedule. You’ll regret it if you don’t.
What the hell is that? Why would I regret it? Is that a threat?
It’s possible that he has confirmed the fact that I used to be a stripper and has decided to blackmail me, threaten to tell the school about it.
It’s also possible that he called some people back in San Francisco and learned even more about my past. Maybe someone told him Stan’s willing to pay him a handsome reward for giving away my location, or for taking me back to the city himself.
Less than two weeks ago, nobody in town knew about my past, other than Tony and Bertha. I felt safe in my little Ashbourne bubble.
Now, suddenly there are three more men who know, and I’m worried about all three, to different degrees and for different reasons.
To top it off, just when I thought my day was getting better, what with Jacob fixing my locks, he started judging me for dating too many guys at once.
He accused me of being a player! Me! A player! Ha! Can you believe it? Tony--one of my supposed boyfriends--would laugh in Jacob's face had he heard that.
I’ve had the longest dry spell in history. Between work, college, Mom’s illness, and Nancy’s case, I already didn't have much time to meet men while I was still living in San Francisco.
Then I moved here and had way more free time, but there aren't any eligible men. If I weren’t showering daily, there’d be cobwebs forming between my legs already.
